Dreamaticus

While TPR slept I slipped down to breakfast then paid the hotel bill. We’d been tempted to stay an extra night, largely because there was a strong possibility that RG would be arriving later in the day after a week’s shooting in Perthshire with Robert Plant, his drummer Marco Giovino, and Halley, the collie pup. I wondered whether the pup would be as well behaved as the other gun-dogs. They all sat patiently on a defined area of brown scrub outside, clearly conscious that there were forbidden from placing a single paw on the lawn. Would Halley be able to contain herself to this tiny space of ground?

Sitting on a grassy slope in the sunshine, I discussed our date of departure at length with EB (the wife of JB, my former colleague at QMUC). “If we stay another night, we’ll be able to climb the hill with RG and the dog” I said. EB replied “Yes, but you don’t know for certain that RG will turn up. Isn’t it rather odd that he’s gone shooting? Are you certain it’s him? In any case, it’s the middle of term-time and you’ve been off work for 2 weeks. Surely someone will notice soon?”

Suddenly I remembered that I’d promised to present a full CPD training course on searching bibliographic databases on Wednesday. I didn’t even know who had made a booking, nor had I prepared any material. It was urgent that we return to Edinburgh!

Before we left I microwaved a piece of kitchen equipment for JM, who had taken a room in a corridor above us following his return from South Africa. I also harvested the tomatoes in our hotel bedroom window. They would make great sauce, and I guessed that if I took them, they wouldn’t be missed by the staff. (Nor would TPR ever find out about the one night at the hotel that I had spent with my ST, my ex-boyfriend.)